by Vanessa Skye
Arena nodded. “It’s Saturday morning. Want to go get some breakfast at the deli? I’m fucking starving.”
Berg shook her head. “I’ve got some place I need to be, and then I’m going to catch up on my cases back at the office. But meet me at the church in Greektown tomorrow morning at ten. I want to catch the service and look around a bit, see if I can’t get a lead on Victoria Lampert’s murderer.”
Arena folded his arms. “I doubt any of the devout religious folk had anything to do with it.”
Berg raised an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised.”
“Jeez. No weekends when I work with you, right?”
“Crime doesn’t take two days off. Why should we?”
Arena walked back to his car, grumbling the whole way.
***
Berg walked up the stairs onto the charming front porch of the neat, two-story family home.
With tan vinyl siding and white trim, the O’Loughlin family home was situated in Logan Square on North Lawndale, and the quiet, idyllic neighborhood was sought-after real estate.
Berg took a deep breath and rapped on the blue wooden front door with her heart in her throat. She stamped her feet and blew on her hands to warm them up as she waited, cursing her lack of foresight in grabbing a thicker coat, and listened to the excited chatter from both adults and children coming from inside. Judging by the noise, she figured at least one sibling, with children, was visiting, maybe more.
Please don’t let it be Liz.
Berg heard footsteps before the door was wrenched open abruptly.
The pretty blond woman’s face even fell further as she looked at Berg standing on her mother’s doorstep. “He’s not here,” she snapped, her blue eyes—so similar to Jay’s—cold and her breath fogging in the chilly November air. “Something I blame you for, by the way.”
“Hi, Liz,” Berg muttered looking down at her feet. “Nice to see you.”
“Who is it, sweetheart?” Jay’s mother called from inside.
“Absolutely nobody important!” Liz yelled back without taking her eyes off Berg. “They were just leaving!”
Berg heard an exasperated sigh and then footsteps heading toward the door.
“Now is that any way to . . .” The door opened wider. “Alicia! Please, come in. Get yourself out of the cold,” Carmel O’Loughlin said with a kind smile.
“Thank—”
“You were just leaving, weren’t you, Alicia?” Liz said, blocking Berg’s entry with her body.
“Uh . . .” While Berg could have easily moved the woman out of the way, not to mention done a quite a lot of damage in the process, she didn’t.
Fortunately, Carmel pulled Liz out of the way for her. “Ignore her, Alicia. She’s in a mood today and is being rude to everyone. I have half a mind to take her over my knee.” She glared at her daughter.
Berg stepped inside, closing the door behind her.
Liz grabbed her by the arm and brought her lips close to Berg’s ear. “Make it quick. Mom doesn’t need the particular kind of shit that you seem to bring with you wherever you go.”
Berg couldn’t really argue with that.
You destroy everything you touch, her mother whispered.
Berg followed Carmel into the huge ranch-style kitchen and watched as the short, blond woman made her a hot cup of coffee. Mercifully, Liz hadn’t followed them, so they were alone. Judging by the shrieks and giggling, she and multiple children had resumed playing in the next room.
Berg clutched the steaming cup and half smiled. “Thank you.”
“Have you eaten?” Carmel peered at her.
Berg nodded. “Sure.”
“Don’t bullshit me, dear. You’ve lost at least ten pounds since I saw you last, and you didn’t have it to lose. I’m going to make you some eggs.” She fetched a pan from under the kitchen island and fished some eggs and accompaniments out of the fridge.
“Thank you,” Berg whispered. She looked down at her coffee as Carmel bustled around the kitchen, unsure where to begin. “So . . . Liz said Jay’s not here?”
Carmel put the butter down and stared at Berg, her eyes softening, and wiped her hands on her apron. “No, I’m sorry, Alicia, he’s not. He was here a couple of weeks ago, but only for a day. Just long enough to put his belongings in storage in the garage. He said he had a job offer and was going to check it out.”
Berg frowned into her coffee cup. “A job offer? What kind of job offer?”
“Just a job offer—that’s all he said.” Carmel shrugged. “As the daughter of a cop, the wife of a cop, and now the mother of a cop, I learned to stop asking questions a long time ago. If I need to know something, they’ll tell me.”
Berg smiled. “You’re a smart woman.” She gnawed her bottom lip and worked up the courage to ask the question that scared her most. “Do you think he’s coming back to work?”
It had been two weeks since Jay had left his office, and he hadn’t come back. He hadn’t returned to their apartment either, apart from collecting his things.
Berg had been snatching a few hours of sleep here and there on the couch, in the hope of catching him if he came by. But he never did. Jay loved his job with the CPD, and the idea that he’d give it up just so he wouldn’t have to see her was devastating.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. He just didn’t say,” Carmel said, sliding some eggs, hash, spinach, and mushrooms onto a plate in front of Berg. “Eat up. I remember you like corned beef hash, in particular.”
“Thank you, Carmel. How did you do that so fast? I burn water . . . slowly.” She smiled a small smile and inhaled the mouth-watering smells. She’d forgotten what hungry felt like.
Carmel beamed. “Happy to give you lessons if you like?”
Berg nodded and grinned a bit more as she started shoveling the delicious food.
Carmel was everything she’d imagined a mother could be, plus a good deal more. Being around her felt like home, and it wasn’t just because of Jay.
“Do you know where he’s living?” she asked between mouthfuls.
“He didn’t tell me that either,” Carmel said, shrugging and patting her short blond hair.
“Oh. Do you think you could get him a message if you see him?”
“Of course.”
“Tell him he doesn’t have to give up his job. Tell him I’ll get a transfer. There’s nothing holding me to the 12th anymore. I’ll leave. That way, he can come back.”
Carmel smiled and grasped Berg’s hand. “He’ll come around, dear. I don’t know what happened between you, but he loves you too much to just walk away. The time he spent with you is the happiest and most settled I have ever seen him.”
Berg nodded and kept eating as tears gathered behind her eyes, and she tried not to choke on the lump that formed in her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“I see you’re still wearing your ring,” Carmel said, touching Berg’s finger.
She nodded, blushing.
“Good. I have a feeling you’ll be my daughter soon. I’m sure you’ll be much nicer than the five I’ve already got,” she said, raising her voice loud enough for Liz to hear the last sentence in the next room and then grinning and lowering it again. “And I want you to come over at least once a week to eat, okay? Jay wouldn’t forgive me if I let you fade away, and rightfully so.”
Berg nodded and bit her bottom lip before the trembling gave her away. Carmel’s kindness was a kind of torture because she didn’t know what to do with it.
***
Berg thanked Jay’s mom again for everything and shut the bright blue door behind her as soon as she could without being rude. She didn’t bother saying goodbye to Liz.
She dialed Jay’s cell again as she walked back to her car, intent on making sure he understood she would put in for a transfer so he wouldn’t have to give up the job he loved.
She frowned and put the call on speaker, sure she had misheard.
“The number you have reached has been disconnected,” the
automatic message repeated.
Chapter Fourteen
For the third weekend in a row, Arena fidgeted beside Berg on the hard pew as the minister droned on and on about hellfire, damnation, and sinning.
Nothing like an uplifting start to a Sunday.
“Jesus,” he mumbled in her ear. “I thought my people had the corner on guilt and fear. Aren’t other Christians more moderate? This church would be more at home in a red state.”
Berg, distracted from her attempts to get a good look at all the parishioners, snorted softly and was promptly, and quite loudly, shushed by an elderly woman sitting behind them.
The Lamperts sat in the front pew with their two sons and remaining daughter, avidly listening to the sermon. The funeral service for their eldest daughter had been held the previous week at the same church after the coroner had finally released her body, and judging by the group of people sitting closely around them, they were still being supported by the church community in their grief.
At the end of what felt like an interminable service, Berg jumped up and hurried over to the couple.
“Detective Raymond,” Con said, recognizing her. “Can I hope we’ve converted you?”
Berg stifled a smile. “I’m considering changing churches,” she said, as Arena covered a snicker with a cough. She elbowed her way through the thick crowd surrounding the Lamperts. “You were going to get me a list of the men you’d tried to set up with Victoria?” She smiled, hoping it softened the push of her reminder.
Mr. Lampert looked dazed for a moment before he seemed to come back to the present. “Oh yes, of course. I think most of them are here today, so you can ask them personally, if you want. I’m sure no one will object.”
Berg looked around the crowd watching the exchange with unabashed interest.
A few nodded at her eagerly.
“Ah, okay.” She was unnerved by the intensity of the crowd’s stares and began to question if some were ever going to blink.
Yeah, that’s not creepy.
“So I hear the service last week was beautiful?” she asked Con, steering the eavesdroppers away from the investigation.
He and Miranda nodded.
“It was a lovely way to send Victoria into the arms of God,” Con said. “The Chicago Youth Choir even gave a special performance. It was beautiful.”
***
“Oh my God. If I have to interview one more pimply little Bible thumper, I’m going to start busting heads,” Arena said on the way back to their cars. “Is there a male in that church that the Lamperts didn’t tap for their daughter?”
“It could be worse,” Berg said with a shrug, chuckling.
Arena scoffed. “Oh? How, exactly? Time stands still in that place. That’s precisely why I told my parents I would no longer be attending Mass and there was fuck all they could do about it.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You could’ve spent the entire afternoon with them staring at your chest.”
Arena laughed. “Give ’em a break. That’s the closest those virgins have ever gotten to a female chest.”
“I think I saw drool.” Berg blew out a deep breath. “I don’t even have much of a chest to stare at.”
“Certainly not at the moment, anyway,” Arena commented, flicking a glance at the front of her shirt. “Leave your car here. You’re coming with me.”
Berg stopped and crossed her arms. “Really. And where would you be taking me?”
“To my mom’s. Have you given up eating altogether? That chest needs feeding, desperately. She always puts out a good spread on Sunday afternoons. The whole family will be there.” He mirrored her stance and flexed his biceps. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Berg felt a pang of guilt. Despite her promise nearly three weeks prior, she hadn’t been back to see Carmel O’Loughlin. She couldn’t. She didn’t want to be reminded of the family she nearly had but lost, thanks to her own demons.
She hesitated only a second before nodding.
There’s nothing at my place to eat anyway.
Arena unlocked his black Jeep, and Berg climbed into the passenger seat, noting the interior looked like it had been cleaned since the last time she had been in it.
“Don’t think I missed that either.” Arena smirked and cocked an eyebrow.
“Missed what?”
“How easily you gave in just now. You’ve never accepted an invitation to my mom’s place to eat. Ever. Not even when we were seeing each other. I’m guessing you really don’t want to go home.”
Berg pursed her lips but shook her head.
“Still haven’t heard from Jay, huh?”
“No. And I don’t expect to. Actually, have you heard anything around the precinct about Jay resigning or getting another job?”
Arena’s eyebrows skidded up to his hairline. “What? No way. Why? What have you heard?”
“Nothing much,” Berg said, unwilling to share her conversation with Carmel with him. She had been hoping he’d come back.
“Have you asked our interim captain, Smith?” Arena suggested.
Berg shook her head. “That’s a good idea. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”
Berg and Arena drove north in silence for a few miles.
“So there’s a few things you need to be prepared for at Casa de Arena.”
Berg leaned back in the passenger seat. “Oh?”
“Yeah. The religious theme for the day will continue. My mom will insist on you saying grace, and she’ll try to save your soul. As a heathen, you are most definitely going to hell, in her opinion, and she can’t be expected to remain quiet about that. Oh, and all my brothers will hit on you, for sure, even though their wives will be there watching.”
Berg blinked then grimaced. “Great.”
Arena shrugged. “Just want you to be prepared.”
“I’ve been sitting through sermons for the last three weekends. I’m cool. Plus, you’ve been my partner for nearly a year now. I think I’m prepared for the Arena charm onslaught.”
Arena smirked. “I don’t think you are. I’m the subtle one.”
Berg snorted. “Fuck me!”
***
Berg sought out Captain Smith first thing Monday morning. “Is Jay ever coming back?” The question popped out as soon as his ass hit his chair, and she bounced slightly, her nerves getting the best of her, as she stared, wide-eyed and waiting.
“Good morning to you, too, Berg,” he said, switching on the computer.
“Is he?” She clasped her hands in front, then behind her back, before finally settling on her belt. “He’s been on leave for close to five weeks now.”
He sighed. “He asked for a leave of absence, without pay, a few days after he appointed me captain. I granted it. He didn’t give a date of return.”
“Fuck!” Berg ran her hand over her face, sighed, and stepped forward. “And you didn’t think to tell me this before now?”
Smith scowled. “Honestly, Berg, it’s not really any of your business! Jay didn’t tell anyone, if McClymont’s shock when I contacted him to get final sign-off was anything to go by.”
Berg took a deep breath. “Sorry. You sure he didn’t say anything about when he’d be back?”
Smith shook his head. “No. Why don’t you call him?”
“I tried. His cell’s been disconnected, and I have no idea where he’s living. His family doesn’t even know where he is.”
Smith grabbed his coffee cup and stepped closer. “Sorry, Berg,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “We’ve got a briefing in ten. Why don’t you concentrate on that?” He smiled and left in search of coffee.
Berg walked out of his office and sat down heavily at her desk.
“Hey,” Arena said, sitting down across from Berg. “Did you talk to Smith?”
Berg nodded.
“And?”
“And he’s taken a leave of absence without telling anyone except Smith and disappeared,” Berg said, shrugging. “His phone’s disconnected, and his
family doesn’t even know where he is.”
Arena frowned. “That’s not like him. Seriously, what the fuck did you two fight about? Must’ve been epic.”
Berg glowered. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Arena sighed and opened his laptop. “Fine. What I was going to tell you is that a buddy of mine at the 7th just told me about the murder of a suspected dealer on his turf. Tongue cut out, eye-gouged. Sound familiar?”
Berg sat back. “Another dealer bites the dust, huh?”
“Suspected dealer. Cops at the 7th have been after this guy for a while but haven’t been able to make anything stick. Guess someone did their job for them, so they no longer need to worry about it.”
Berg snorted. “Did your buddy have a theory on the motive? Was the victim looking to expand his turf? Encroaching on gang territory?”
“Not that they’re aware of, but that’s not saying much. It’s not like he was a CI or anything.”
“Would your buddy be willing to share the file?”
“Possibly, if we share ours. The body should be at the morgue by now. I’m sure Dr. D wouldn’t mind if we went to have a look-see.”
Berg nodded. “Let’s go.”
***
Pushing through the double doors and walking into the large autopsy suite, they found Dr. Dwight leaning over a body, scalpel in hand.
“Detectives,” he said through the clear plastic screen of his visor. “Is there something I can help you with before I get started here?”
“Mind if we observe?” Berg asked, looking at the bloody body.
“The obvious similarities got your attention?” He sliced the Y incision from both collarbones to the groin, carefully cutting around the victim’s navel.
Berg and Arena stepped back in case of blood spatter.
“This killing must be related, not a copycat,” Berg said, craning to see the body from her position. “The wounds look almost identical, even down to the broken fingers.”
